A Heaviness in My Head
by FinnFiona
Summary: Damon and Caroline are in one another's corner whether they realize it or not. A barside chat set after S6E8 ("Fade Into You") and further inspired by S6E9 ("I Alone"). (D/E, S/C)


**A/N: **Those who have read my work before know I have a fondness for the sort of missed opportunity/begrudging friendship between Damon and Caroline. Thanks for indulging me in that once again, though my apologies if this is rather rusty - been awhile..!

**Disclaimer: **Definitely not mine, which is probably for the best. The title borrows from Adele's "Don't You Remember" which, for some reason, puts me in mind of Stefan and Caroline these days.

* * *

Caroline sees the shadow fall across her glass before she sees its owner. In that split second of ignorance, she hesitates. Hopes that she might have a sympathetic ear to turn to. Simultaneously wishes whoever it is will leave her well enough alone.

But mostly she's just mad at herself, mad at the still too-large part of her that wants the shadow to belong to Stefan, come to find her, confess to what an idiot he's been and ask for a chance to make it up to her. For a chance _with_ her.

It isn't Stefan, though. (No surprise.)

"Drowning your sorrows, Blondie?" Damon asks with that permanent smirk, motioning to the bartender as he settles onto the barstool next to hers.

"More like contemplating my sorrows with liquid encouragement," she fires back, downing her drink and seriously considering leaving without any further preamble. She doesn't think she has the energy to keep up with Damon Salvatore tonight, not after the disaster that was Friendsgiving and everything associated with the past few days. Or months. Years? Whatever.

She knows she should focus on the good news, the progress - be positive. And she _is_ positive, goddammit, but sometimes even the positives hurt a little.

Before she can make up her mind (and no, she is not unsteady on her feet, thank you very much), Damon is refilling her glass with the good stuff, and who is she to turn her back on good manners?

"It ain't the Grill, but I guess it'll do," Damon takes his own drink in hand, looking around the Whitmore establishment.

Caroline sighs, another recent failure to tally. "I've been trying to find a way back in," she says, almost to herself (and might as well have been all along, for all the help she got), "back home, I mean..."

Damon either doesn't pick up on her tone or is willfully ignoring it, because he only shrugs. "Hell, what do I care? I just spent four months trapped in an endless Mystic Falls loop. A little change of scenery is probably healthy."

Caroline feels like she could use four months in the security and peace of her childhood bedroom right now, but she isn't about to say so.

She deflects instead, studies Damon's profile as he takes a healthy swig. "Why wouldn't you tell us that Bonnie was with you?" She's already heard his answer from Elena of course, but she wants to hear it from him. (She's also going to pretend she imagined the fondness softening his features at Bonnie's name, because that's just too weird.)

"I thought she died to save me," he says simply, eyes fixed on the bar top, "didn't see any point in you all mourning her twice. Besides, I know you'd rather have her back than me, and I wouldn't blame you."

Caroline doesn't challenge the idea, but she'll be damned if he doesn't sound genuinely guilt-ridden that such a sacrifice would be made on his behalf. She's started to (begrudgingly) realize that behind all the usual bluster he doesn't see himself as worthy (has confirmed this low opinion herself, more than once, and for good reason), but she knows Bonnie, and her friend wouldn't make that decision lightly.

Funny. Caroline isn't as surprised as she should be. But that probably started with what got him stuck over there in the first place. (If not before - well-earned bitterness will only carry a girl so far.)

"Alaric told me what you did," her voice is quiet, "for my mom - after the explosion." She swallows, frowning at his silence. "I never had a chance to say thank you."

Damon looks at her for a long moment that she can't quite penetrate before turning back to his drink. "I'd do it again," he intones at last.

She believes him. And that's not as surprising as it should be either. "I know," she admits with a small smile.

"We're going to get Bonnie back, Caroline," he promises, and she knows it's a promise because she's seen that look on his face before.

She's spent a long time thinking he only cared about himself, Elena, and occasionally Stefan. But Caroline is learning to have an open mind. (Or at least, opener... More open. Yes.) "I know that, too," she straightens, tries to gather herself - there's work to do.

(But she's exhausted. And there's so _much_ work to do. She may be ready to admit she can't do it all on her own.)

She orders another drink.

Damon raises an eyebrow, a grin breaking the hard angles of his jaw. "You're a much better drinking buddy than my brother," he tips his glass to her. "I didn't think he was to let me leave tonight. But I can only take so much of that sad motel he's holed up in, even if there is free liquor," his lips twist into a moue of distaste. "It's depressing."

He turns back in time to see Caroline's shoulders stiffen at the mention of Stefan, despite her best efforts. "He doesn't want to lose you again," she takes a shallow breath. "If he lets you out of his sight..." (God, why is she defending him?)

"Yea," Damon sobers, "I picked up on that." He pauses a moment, seemingly weighing his options. "Look, for what it's worth, I told him to get over himself, apologize, and take your beautiful blonde ass for a nice dinner."

Caroline snorts involuntarily, but her mirth fades quickly, the wave of sudden emotion sliding easily into a prickle in the corner of her eyes and a pain in the back of her throat. "I wish you'd been around a couple months ago," she forces a smile.

"You and me both," he says drily.

She considers him thoughtfully. "For what it's worth," she echoes his words, "I didn't think she should do it, compel you away." (Argued with her about it. Repeatedly, as a matter of fact.)

Damon looks over skeptically, but Caroline must appear convincing because he clinks the rim of his glass to hers with an appreciative nod.

"Yet here we are," he drinks. "If only they all listened to us, right?"

"But they don't," she rejoins darkly. "And I'm kind of tired of trying to convince everyone to care."

"I'll drink to that," he downs his bourbon. "But do me a favor," he adds, a surprising amount of sincerity creeping in, "try not to give up in my brother. Not yet, anyway."

"I..." she fumbles, uncertain, and not unmoved by the request. But it's not as simple as a favor, and it never was. "I can't wait for him to feel something, Damon," she shakes her head. "He didn't feel something before, when I... I was..." she purses her lips. "That's the whole point, he didn't feel enough to stay. Every single opportunity, he just _left_," she feels the color rising in her cheeks. "And I know he was grieving, I mean _God_, I get it. And I know he says that I would've-" she pulls up short, remembering who she's talking to.

"Don't stop on my account," Damon raises a hand. The smirk is there, but Caroline isn't blind to the turbulence in his eyes.

"Sorry," she mumbles, biting her lip. "It's just," she sighs, shoulders slumping. "He left, you know? He left..."

"I'm aware..." and come to think of it, Damon doesn't look any happier about it than she does.

"Would you have left?" she blurts out. (And no, she's not sure when she started judging others' actions against a Damon Salvatore-shaped yardstick. And she's not starting now. So... She's just curious.)

(Right.)

"I wouldn't have been much fun to be around..." he evades, not meeting her gaze.

"But would you have left?" she insists.

He locks eyes with her suddenly, and she's physically moved by the intensity in that blue. "Would you have erased your memories?" he counters.

Caroline sighs deeply. (What a pair they are.)

"I won't give up on him," she says at last. "But I don't know what I want anymore." She wonders when was the last time she got what she wanted, anyway.

"Sure you do, Blondie," Damon leans back, "it's what we all want."

He's right. Of course he's right. She wonders how close he is to getting it for himself. She finds the most magnanimous bone in her body, asking how hard it must have been for him to quite literally escape from the last circle of hell to find it all snatched away.

"You won't give up on her either, will you?" she tilts her head, considering. (She thinks if he did give up, it would be a bad thing. She _thinks_. She's pretty sure.)

A small, genuine smile graces his features at the question, his mind far, far away for a moment. "You know, I thought I should," he finally answers, "but now..."

"It's not hopeless," she offers.

"Hmmm," he grins, polishing off the last drop of amber liquid. "Maybe not." He stands, shrugging into his jacket. "I should be getting back," he mock-grimaces, "before Stefan sends out a search party."

"Yea," Caroline makes a poor attempt at a smile, deflating. (Why shouldn't he leave? Didn't she start this night half sure she wanted to be alone?)

(But alone, she's realizing, isn't the answer.)

He frowns, pulling out his phone. "I'm calling your mom to come get you," and she can hear it ringing before she can mount a protest. So she slumps further to the bar instead, head pillowed on her arms.

"So that's settled," he puts the phone back into his pocket a moment later. "Caroline?"

"You can stay... until she gets here," she mumbles into her hands.

"What was that?" And when she looks up, she can see full well that he heard her just fine. (The bastard.)

But he reseats himself without incident and orders another round.

"To contemplating our sorrows?" he raises his glass, and an eyebrow.

"To drowning them, with company," she smiles (and it's easier this time).


End file.
